


Nighttime Conversations

by Starfleet_Command_Unit_Bi



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22294420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starfleet_Command_Unit_Bi/pseuds/Starfleet_Command_Unit_Bi
Summary: Eist and Calanthe have a mostly serious conversation.Set about a year after they get married.
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	Nighttime Conversations

“My love,” Eist began awkwardly, watching his wife prepare for bed in her usual way. Knives placed on the side table, in easy reach, sword hung up by the bedpost, in easy reach, armour set methodically on the stand, in easy reach. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say she was a little paranoid but a lifetime of war and battles tended to do that to a person. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

“We tend to talk quite a lot. What about, Eist?” she asked, Calanthe’s tired voice making him twitch. 

He was the only person allowed to hear that she was tired. Calanthe was queen, she was the lion of Cintra, but she was also constantly defending her right to throne from every single courtier he thought they could do a better job. Eist was the only one who she could risk hearing that she was tired.

“About what Sir Lenard said earlier at dinner,” he replied.

“The joke about the lamb? I know it’s not your favourite food in the world, but, really, you should be able to handle a little teasing from the knights.”

“No, the other thing, my love.”

Realisation dawned on her face, only the minutest change, but in the year they had been married, Eist had become adept at noticing. Sir Lenard had made a joke, after the lamb joke at Eist’s expense, about another heir joining the table soon could be a threat to little Ciri’s position. Calanthe had rolled her eyes, more focused on her conversation with some ambassador or another, Eist’s job was to look pretty and support his wife, something he particularly enjoyed, and moved on. Eist couldn’t quite move on.

“And what of it? You knew my age when you married me, you know my age now. Surely you aren’t feeling broody?”

“No, no, quite the opposite.”

That got Calanthe’s attention. A raised eyebrow and a pause in well-practice movements, and Eist could feel all of her focus on him, even as she continued to not look at him.

“You do not wish for an heir?”

“No, you have Pavetta and Ciri to be your heirs, I have many nephews vying for the throne of Skellige. There is no need for me to wish for an heir and, truly, my love, I don’t wish for one.”

“And why is that?”

“You have powerful blood running through your veins, and that same blood runs through your daughter and granddaughter. I love them as I would love any child of my own blood, but I fear what that power could do, how that power could corrupt someone else. No matter what, a father’s first duty is to care for their child, and I fear for an instance where I would fail in that duty.”

Calanthe walked over to him slowly, putting her arms around his neck when she reached him, and looked him dead in the eye. There was no tension in her frame, amusement in her expression, and Eist melted at her touch, holding onto her waist and pulling her close. It had been a long day, worsened by the comment made at dinner, and spending any time like this always made it better.

“Eist, I think that may be the first time I’ve heard you speak truly rationally,” she teased. “I don’t think we have much chance of your fears coming true. A year of marriage, a  _ productive _ year of marriage, and not even the smallest hint of a child. I think it is safe to say that I am beyond my child-bearing years.”

“You can’t blame me for being concerned,” he replied, kissing her cheek when she moved a little closer. “We are certainly productive in our bedchamber duties.”

They kissed properly after his comment, lips meeting with love-filled familiarity, and Eist didn’t want to be anywhere else, ever again. Nothing could possibly compare to the feeling of his wife in his arms, hidden away from the rest of the world, kissing as though time had stopped still. Calanthe broke the kiss first, resting their foreheads together with a rare soft smile, and stroked at the hair on the back of his neck. 

“While usually I would love to continue our bedchamber duties, as you so eloquently put it, I would much rather like to go to sleep, with my husband beside me.”

“Always, my love, always.”


End file.
